The swish of the blade was a sound of absolute finality. Hermes felt the cold steel bite through his neck, separating his head from his body in a single, surgical stroke. The last thing he experienced was the wet thud of his face hitting the floor and the sight of his own blood splashing across the endless dimension as his body dropped like a log.
The young Don realized his life was over. He had never thought his existence would be erased so easily from the history of this outcome. He closed his eyes, accepting his end at the hands of a monster that shouldn't even exist in this world. He had hoped for a long game, a slow rise to power, but his ambition had vanished in a heartbeat. It was unacceptable—to be killed not by a protagonist like Arata Kingsman, but by a nameless ogre.
But as his resolve to live perished, a familiar, sharp scent hit his nose.
"Oh, you're here now," a nostalgic voice called out.
Hermes's eyes snapped open. He wasn't in the void. His eyes rolled around as he found himself in a strange, shimmering place. His face flustered the moment he saw her, but he quickly focused on his own body first.
"Am I dead? But it feels so real," he muttered, scanning himself from head to toe. He checked his pulse, feeling the steady thrum of life. "I'm... I'm breathing."
The beautiful girl approached him. Her body was draped in a thin white cloth that appeared dangerously erotic, catching his attention immediately. He let out a forced cough when she noticed him eyeing her daring cleavage. Her hair and sharp eyes were a pure, dazzling white, radiating an aura that could make any man fall in love at first sight.
Hermes felt a jolt of recognition. He remembered her. He recalled the time he had been engulfed by a dark shadow and transferred to a large garden where he saw two lovers flirting—the same girl who had watched him from afar.
"So, it was another illusion. I'm daydreaming again," he sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders.
The girl stopped and tilted her head. "What do you mean? I'm real, though."
Hermes flinched. "Oh, great. This daydream talks. Is this the kind of dream you have before you go to the afterlife? You're hot and pretty, lady, but you look like a 2D character from a store. I can't deny you meet my requirements, but I shouldn't be falling for this scene."
The girl covered her mouth and laughed like a noblewoman. She placed a hand on her cheek. "Oh, my. Do you really think I'm just an imaginary girl? I'm flattered I meet your requirements."
"Wait—wait a second," Hermes stammered. "You're real? I thought you weren't!"
The girl leaned her upper body toward him, her sharp white eyes locking onto his scarlet gaze. She nodded with a simper. "Yes, I'm real. I am not your imaginary dream girl or a typical character of your imagination, apparently."
"What?" Hermes took a short step back.
The girl giggled. "Looking at your reaction, I can tell you're not totally good at interacting with real women."
Hermes clicked his tongue. "I'm not, woman. I'm just being cautious. The last girl I met tried to assassinate me. Who knows what you'll do? You might kill me just like her. By the way, who the hell are you? And where am I?"
The girl looked bewildered, then sighed as she walked closer. Her smiling face made him petrified. He could smell her—it was like cherry blossoms, a perfume he loved in his original world. Before he could retreat, she hitched his hands in hers.
"Before I answer your first question, let me congratulate you on accomplishing the mission. I'm so happy you managed to pull it off despite your... dense approach."
"Huh? What mission?"
Without asking, she pulled him into an embrace. "Finally," she muttered, "you're already doing it... just like you used to."
Hermes tried to push her away, but he was paralyzed. His face burned as her chest pressed against him. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent his "junior" from rising.
"Woman, who the hell are you? Please, get off me!" Hermes resisted, but she grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.
"Look at you, fufu~. You're blushing. Does my beauty make you horny?"
"Don't even think about it!" Hermes spat. "I'm not the type of man who can be easily seduced. Stop this nonsense and answer the fucking question!"
The girl turned mad and released him, puffing her cheeks. "How rude! Every other male would fall in love with me and try to do nasty stuff. I already prepared this moment just to—"
"—Enough! Just where the hell am I?"
Hermes grabbed her shoulders, and the girl simpered. "Oh, my. You're brave enough to demand that. Alright, I'll tell you. This is the dimensional universe where only the Almighty and His messengers meet a single soul. In Islam, they call it the depths; Buddhism calls it the enlightenment world for the worst; it is Purgatory to the Christians. But only the ancient Jewish beliefs knew the truth—this place is Gehenna. The hellish realm for Gods."
"Gehenna? What the fuck are you talking about?" Hermes asked abruptly, his voice echoing through the serene landscape. "This place where trees grow and the sky is blue is supposed to be the gates of hell?"
The girl's face puffed out in a pout again, her fists clenched at her sides. "I told you already! This is Gehenna. It is not hell, but a dimensional universe. Hmpf, you're really getting on my nerves. Be grateful! I am a benevolent existence."
"Huh?" Hermes grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. "You're the one getting on my nerves! Gehenna or whatever is supposed to be a fantasy world. Aah! Whatever!" He pushed her away, feeling the absurdity of the situation peaking.
"How rude!" she shouted, straightening her white cloth. "That's not how you treat a lady, sir."
Hermes pointed an accusing index finger at her. "Shut it, woman. If this is Gehenna, then am I already dead?"
The girl heaved an exhausting sigh, looking at him with a mix of pity and affection. "You're really just like you were before."
'Before? Did I meet this woman somewhere?' Hermes wondered, but his thoughts were cut short.
With a flick of her finger, a wooden bench materialized out of thin air behind them. She sat down gracefully and offered him the vacant seat. "Please, have a seat, sir."
"Why should I?"
A vein appeared on her forehead, and she forcibly commanded with a terrifying smile, "Sit. Down."
The young Don's body was dragged down into the seat by an unseen force. Immediately, the girl hitched her hands around his left arm, leaning in so close that her smooth chest pressed against him, making him fluster once again.
"Starting today," she began, her tone shifting to one of playful authority, "you're not allowed to say rude things to me. You will obediently follow my requests, whether you hate it or not."
'This woman—' Hermes glared at her, but she only smiled back.
"C'mon, just enjoy this moment. For now, of course." She leaned her head against him. "I can finally embrace you once again," she whispered aside.
"Did you just say something, woman?" asked Hermes.
"Nothing," she simpered.
"Alright, look, be serious already. Can you explain this to me, lady? If this is not hell or purgatory, why am I here?" Hermes turned his face toward her.
She flustered as his handsome features dazzled her up close. "Oh, my. You really look so cool face-to-face."
"Enough already! Please, just answer the fucking question!" Hermes heaved a heavy sigh.
The girl placed her index finger over his lips to silence him, then rested her face happily on his shoulder. "To tell you the truth... you're already dead."
Hermes froze, a sudden wave of sadness washing over him. "So... I'm dead, huh."
"What's with the long face? To tell you the truth, you'll be resurrected in no time anyway. You've been granted a powerful item—a gift from our father—and a powerful mystical power that could rival angels, demons, and even other gods. The only reason you haven't returned yet is because I intervened. I just wanted to meet you in person. No need to worry; you're going to be alive again."
Hermes flinched, turning his face toward her. "What do you mean—?"
In those two seconds, Hermes found himself surprised as their lips collided. It was soft, warm, and nostalgic. Simultaneously, his feet began to disappear into shimmering blue bubbles.
Angels, demons, and other mystical entities—these were things he couldn't understand even if he wanted to. These statements were not part of the gaming system he knew, which gave him a massive headache. This world was turning into something far beyond his imagination. He recalled the research he had done over the last three days; while the game seemed normal, he had found a book about species like elves and demons that had disappeared a thousand years ago. They weren't part of the game's structure, yet they were woven into the history of this world as beings wiped out for treating humans as pawns.
The sweet taste of her lips felt like a memory he couldn't quite place. It was his first real kiss—far better than any body pillow could ever offer.
As his lower body dissolved, the girl leaned in and whispered urgently into his ear.
"I'm sad. We have no more time to be alone. I'm really pissed off," she murmured. "Please, use your slime pet to destroy them all however you want, okay? I know you realize it exists. Use it properly. We'll meet again when you defeat that Ogre. I'll wait for your return... and that time, I'll tell you who I am."
Hermes, caught in the transition, made a firm proclamation: "I will."
"Return to our world, and rise again. My dear Emp—"
Before the last word reached him, he disappeared completely.
…..
Seraph approached the lady in the black cloak, who was standing over the remains. He began to clap slowly. "It's done. As the reports said, you are the most outstanding assassin of all. No need for the others to even show up. Impressive."
The girl didn't look up, her face clouded with sadness as she retrieved her knife from the corpse. "There's nothing to celebrate. Your monster finished the job. I didn't do anything at all."
"No matter. I'll tell the higher-ups you killed him without my help. Think of it as a free service," Seraph interjected. He offered his hand to assist her, but she rejected it. "Don't bother. Just report that you did it. I won't accept your lame jokes."
"Oh, my. Such a stubborn woman," Seraph mused, his eyes drifting back to the cold body. "No matter. But... it keeps bothering me. Somehow, I feel like you were holding back against this man."
"I wasn't holding back," the girl in the black cloak replied, her voice cold as she pointed her weapon at the Ogre. "But to think, forbidden magic has activated accordingly... I'm surprised. Where did you get this beast? This is the first time I've seen this type of monster."
"The forbidden art won't work without the special drug injected into the corpse of the man they killed earlier," Seraph explained. "To tell you the truth, only a capable and stupid man would inject that drug to defeat his foes. But at least we earn a lot of money selling this product. Only those hungry for power, greedy for money, and lusting for strength would buy this stuff."
"So, our organization is selling drugs now? How pathetic," she asked, her eyes narrowing. "If you are revealing this to me, who exactly was this man?"
"It was Renzo of the Handdog gang," Seraph answered. "A valuable customer who was bound to kill for fortune and lusted for a healthy lifestyle by killing others. I never thought he would put himself in this kind of mess."
"How unfortunate, indeed." She looked at the Ogre with a flicker of pity. "Can it talk?"
Seraph shook his head. "Lady Z, I shall leave this place. This dimension is blocking the signal of my telepathic magic. I need to report our success to the Grand Lord immediately." He lowered his head and vanished into thin air.
"Seraph," she muttered, staring at the spot where he had stood. "A mysterious person working as a spy for another faction. Still wearing a mask of death like the others."
She turned her gaze back to Hermes's corpse, and her expression darkened with a twisted, obsessive grief.
"Oh, Hermes Archnemesis, you shouldn't have died in the first place. You stole something important from me... I wanted answers. You're always in my dreams, so I ran away to my hideout just to plan my revenge. I can't stop thinking about you. Now, my mission is fulfilled, but you fell to this beast. Ooh, you smell so nice. Your blood is so red I want to fill a glass with it and drink until it's empty. Your hair... I could eat it raw. Oh, my... what am I thinking? Why am I crying? I wanted you dead, but why does my heart feel so lonely? Why can't I stop thinking about you? I executed the orders to end your family's history, yet I want to hang your head as a trophy in my living room. Am I crazy?"
Suddenly, her eyes flew open. The severed head of the young Don began to slide across the floor, reuniting with its body as if drawn by a magnetic force.
"What the hell is going on?"
Before she could react, the Ogre moved in front of her, sensing the anomaly. Suddenly, a thin material fell from the void and touched her skin. In a flash of light, she was forcibly transferred out of the dimension.
She landed in an unknown place, dizzy and disoriented. She reached behind her and pulled away the object that had touched her.
"A n-n-newspaper?"
Her face puzzled as she read the headline in bold, mocking letters: [Bitch, stay away from my man. If you weren't important, you'd already be dead. But still, I punish you for this. Be grateful, I'm benevolent.]
"What?" she whispered, her vision fading. She fainted on the spot.
…..
Back in the dimensional room, the Ogre realized something was horribly wrong. It raised its sword to slice the regenerating body once more, but it was too late. The edge of the massive blade was stopped cold by a single finger.
"You son of a bitch," Hermes said, his voice dropping an octave as he cracked his neck from left to right. "Don't you know it's bad to intervene during a resurrection? You've got some nerve to kill me in the first place."
The Ogre roared and swung again. The young Don bent his body backward with impossible fluid grace, dodging the strike before stepping back into the shadows.
"Oh, ho. You're angry. This filthy beast is like a baby ready to kill his daddy," Hermes mocked. He felt a presence stirring within him—something he hadn't noticed before. "Oi, slime. Tell me something useful. Give me the details on how to use your powers immediately. C'mon, say something!"
The Mask of Destruction shifted, the porcelain flowing and reshaping itself into a pair of sharp, professional eyeglasses. His face suddenly took on the look of a strict Mathematics professor.
<
"Oh, it answers. Great," Hermes murmured.
<
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<
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'Seriously, this is getting out of hand,' Hermes thought. 'Is this part of the game system? Just like that girl, this item is giving me a nonsensical monologue.'
He looked at the "Souls" counter—27 out of 50,000. He had no idea what they were for, but he didn't have time to ponder. The Ogre was lunging again.
<
"A tutorial, huh? Okay, yes," Hermes answered, spinning on his heel to dodge a vertical slash from the Ogre's broadsword. His feet moved with a rhythmic, enhanced grace as he put distance between himself and the beast.
<
"Time skipped?! Wait, I just said yes!" Hermes barked, his eyes wide behind his new sharp-rimmed glasses. "And why is it unavailable? Why did you even ask me if it's invalid, you useless piece of shit?! I'm a newbie in this world! Have some sense—that's against the basic rules of a gaming system! Ah, shit, here he comes!"
The Ogre delivered a ground-shaking smash. Hermes ducked his body low, feeling the wind of the blade whistle over his neck, and jumped back as the floor of the dimension shattered. He sprinted away, covering two hundred meters in a flash, but the monster was relentless, its heavy footsteps echoing like thunder behind him.
"Anything useful against this bastard?!" he yelled at the air.
<
"Inventory, open!"
<
A prominent vein throbbed on Hermes's forehead. "Then why did you advise me to check my inventory if you knew I had nothing?! You're a total piece of shit! What's the command to customize a weapon, Slime?"
<
"Loadout? What the heck is this, Call of Duty? This definitely wasn't part of the original game! Open the loadout!"
The Ogre let out a roar so deafening that Hermes had to cover his ears, momentarily stumbling.
<
"I just commanded 'Yes'! Just activate the fuckin' loadout already!" he screamed, his lungs burning as he continued his desperate retreat.
<
'Why does this bastard keep asking me about "No"?!' Hermes thought frantically. "Create a weapon! Weapon customization, activate! Whatever shit you have, just do it! JUST DO IT!"
<
"A powerful weapon that can take down this monster!"
<
"Elaborate my ass! Ah, shit!" Hermes ducked as the Ogre's sword swept horizontally. A few strands of his hair were shorn off by the passing steel. He dashed to the right, narrowly avoiding being trampled. "Alright! How about a submachine gun? A Tommy gun! I want a Tommy gun!"
<
"Fine! A pistol! A Desert Eagle!" he shouted.
<
<
<
The Ogre let out a triumphant bellow, leaping high into the air. It brought its massive broadsword down in a crushing overhead strike aimed directly at Hermes's skull. Hermes stopped running. He stood his ground and raised his right hand toward the descending beast.
"Hey, monster. Get ready to be whacked, son of a bitch," he proclaimed.
With a flash of dark, viscous light, a massive, silver-plated handgun materialized in his grip. Without waiting for the monster to land, Hermes pulled the trigger.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Seven thunderous shots rang out, each muzzle flash illuminating the void. The heavy .50 caliber rounds slammed into the Ogre's chest with the force of a battering ram. The sheer kinetic impact was so great that the seven-foot-tall beast was tossed backward, tumbling through the air for seven hundred meters until it vanished into the distant gloom.
Hermes stood still, the Desert Eagle's barrel smoking. However, something on the ground caught his eye—the newspaper that the mysterious girl had sent to the assassin before she vanished.
He picked it up, reading the headline again: [Bitch, stay away from my man. If you weren't important, you'd already be dead. But still, I punish you for this. Be grateful, I'm benevolent.]
"Wait... 'My man'?" Hermes muttered, his face heating up slightly as the smoke cleared. "And who the hell is 'benevolent'?"
He blew the wisp of smoke away with a cold, yet bewildered gaze. He smiled with his teeth at the satisfying result of the duel, but the words on the paper lingered in his mind more than the victory.